


Soul Ink

by luckystars1015



Series: GinHiji Novellas [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Developing GinHiji, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, GinHiji Endgame, M/M, Mistaken Soulmates, On Hiatus, Past Hijikata/Mitsuba, Past/Current GinTaka, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide, Tags May Change, Trigger Warning: Slit Wrists, Unbearable Sexual Tension, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars1015/pseuds/luckystars1015
Summary: Takasugi has to have been Gintoki’s soulmate because who would be unlucky enough to meet their mortal enemy so young?But when Hijikata Toshirou launches into Gintoki’s life, he is forced to face feelings he’d never felt before. Why does his chest tighten every time he saw the man? This has to have been pure hatred. Because there is no way in hell this could be love.—In which your soulmate and enemy’s name is tattooed on your wrist, but you don’t know which one is which.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Series: GinHiji Novellas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045254
Comments: 42
Kudos: 174





	1. On the Flip Side

The stale air caressed Gintoki’s skin, wrapping around him with heavy humid heat, barely allowing him to breathe in its wake. Only the moon dared to wander into this encapsulating darkness, its light peaking through the crack of the shoji doors. Gintoki could feel his body sway with the rocking waves as the boat carried him to shore. 

Gintoki sacrificed his sight for the sensation of the warm body moving beneath him. The pads of his fingers traced the familiar scars, reading them like a map of the battlefields they fought on, the history of their casualties. It had been quite a while since he had Takasugi under his fingertips. He had almost forgotten the goosebumps that raised every time his moans exhaled upon his skin. The white-haired samurai pulled his Takasugi closer, digging his nose into the crook of his neck like a forest animal finding its home. He licked at his jugular, salt flirting with his tongue, but too soon the spell of Takasugi’s body was broken. A heavy palm pushed against his head, forcing the bridge between them to collapse without warning. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” Takasugi chided in annoyance as if Gintoki were a child who did not know how to handle himself. The light-haired samurai felt his mood dropping several degrees, glowering in the darkness. His erection softened somewhat, not fond of being treated like a pest. 

Gintoki was not one to lie to himself, at least not to his dick. Sex—he would never call what he did with Takasugi lovemaking—was growing tedious, akin to a chore. These days, they simply followed the motions as if the act were a mechanized routine. The silver-haired samurai fingers snaked between Takasugi’s legs, pushing in past the rim and curling against the walls, beckoning the man below to give himself into Gintoki. 

But Takasugi would not heed the call. When the one-eyed leader grew bored of Gintoki’s ministrations, he separated himself and reversed their positions in the blink of an eye. Gintoki couldn’t even exhale a sound of indignation before Takasugi encompassed his shaft in his tight heat too soon. Impatience bore no fruit when it came to sex. Gintoki cringed, his stomach muscles tightening in discomfort as the bastard above him hadn’t stretched himself enough. The burn felt too raw, the pleasure unable to flood from the horizon. But the light-haired samurai forced out a breath, relaxing his muscles to accommodate Takasugi around him. 

He reached out to settle his hands on the familiar grooves of Takasugi’s hips. He closed his eyes to bathe in the shockwaves of his lover defying gravity above. The purple-haired samurai alternated between twirling his hips and snapping them down in a staccato rhythm, drawing out sharp gasps from Gintoki. His hand curled around Takasugi’s left wrist, finger stroking the skin stained with his name. The pad of his thumb burned with an ache rivaling the dying embers of a fallen flame. 

But of course, even this ended too soon as Takasugi came abruptly, painting Gintoki’s chest in ribbons of semen. The bastard had been jacking himself off, finishing first in a race Gintoki hadn’t even known they were participating in. 

His gold and deep purple kimono was already sliding over his shoulders when Gintoki regained his bearings enough to call out, “wait! Where are you going?!” 

“I have business to take care of and you were taking too long,” Takasugi said in a matter-of-fact tone, treating Gintoki less like a lover and more like a business associate. Gintoki felt shallow, used. “Remember to be at the warehouse at 8 o’clock sharp.”

The sudden departure of Takasugi left a bitter taste on his tongue, yet the ache deep inside him churned, desiring desperately to be filled. His hand wrapped around his dick, stroking the mix of wetness and precome to launch him into a quick, dissatisfying orgasm, its tremors rippling throughout his body like a water droplet on a lake. 

Fine. If he were not to satisfy his desires in the sexual sense, then he will throw himself into the physical one. His fingers twitched, yearning to wrap around the hilt of his sword, to spray the crisp air with a mist of blood. As the feared  _ Shiroyasha, _ Gintoki slayed those who stood in Takasugi’s way without a single thought. He was his right hand man, but these days, Gintoki felt more like his dog lying in wait for his master’s orders.

Gintoki cleaned himself up and donned his trainer and white yukata with blue swirls dancing at the hems. Regardless of who met the end of his blade, it wouldn’t be his blood that would stain the pristine cloth tonight. 

————

A full moon hung high in the night sky, illuminating the city below in its graceful rays. Gintoki’s hair shone more gold than silver under the lunar light as he laid on the metal rooftop of an undisclosed warehouse. 

Gintoki shivered as a cool breeze brushed past his bare arm. He rubbed the arm quickly to gather some heat. The light-haired samurai looked down at his right wrist where Takasugi’s name was etched into his skin in black ink. No one other than Takasugi himself could see the name on his wrist, so he felt fine exposing his skin for all the world to see. His other wrist was a different story. Gintoki protected his left wrist almost religiously, hiding the name underneath tight bandages. He had never even told Takasugi, but to be fair, the man never revealed what was on his wrist either. Some soulmates they were. 

Sometimes he couldn’t believe that Takasugi of all people was his soulmate. When they met as kids, Gintoki felt an immediate connection before Takasugi even said his name. He could feel the strange pull tying them together like the string of fate. Shouyou-sensei had thought it was endearing that they had found each other so young. Gintoki had just surmised that they were soulmates since they met so young, and he’d been living his life under that tenant. He never left Takasugi despite all the disagreements they had. Takasugi, in return, didn’t even leave him after the fateful day of Shouyou-sensei's death, even if he had all the right to. 

But these days, Gintoki felt a sense of uneasiness dampening his bond with Takasugi. There was a level of discomfort that pervaded the air between them. Sometimes it felt like forcing two puzzle pieces that weren’t even from the same set together. Had he made the wrong choice on that fateful day? Gintoki shuddered, shaking himself of such thoughts. He couldn’t ruminate about such things or else he would find himself stuck in tar, unable to drag himself forward, sinking into the black ooze lake of his mind. When he finally freed himself from the trappings of his head, he found his limbs falling asleep for being idle too long. 

His fingers anxiously played at the fraying edge of the bandage protecting a wound that didn’t even exist. He was growing weary of waiting for his prey to be lured into the trap Takasugi meticulously laid out. 

The plan was a simple bottleneck procedure. They knew that the target was part of a large organization, so Takasugi’s crew would thin the herd by luring them into a maze with an attacker hidden at every corner. Humongous shipping containers littered the docks, forming a dimly lit maze that only a drug addict would venture into during the dark. The target was set to arrive at the docks around midnight, chasing the bait Takasugi had put out. Gintoki was never one to follow closely to whatever his partner planned. There were too many people to bribe and too many loose strings to tie up, so he was left with one simple task: kill. Shiroyasha was a one man army at Takasugi’s beck and call. He would kill anyone and everything that stood in the man’s way without question. He steered clear of women and children, because even a lowly dog like him still had his morals, but any man on Takasugi’s hit list was fodder for his sword. 

Tonight was no different. Gintoki’s red eyes scanned the picture of one Vice Chief of the Shinsengumi. From the short briefing that Takasugi gave him, he was the real brains behind the operation. He didn’t know the man’s name, of course. He would prefer to not humanize his targets like that. But looking at the photo, he had an unexplained desire to pick on this stranger he was set to kill. Should he call him “Oogushi-kun” for the intricate golden rectangles on lining his jacket or “Mayora” for the strange, almost reverential way he was holding that bottle of mayonnaise? 

Whatever the case, Gintoki was set to steal his last breath before the sun rose. Killing him would ensure the special police task force would run around like a headless chicken before it bled to death, allowing Takasugi to reign free. Since the force they were up against outnumbered Takasugi’s henchmen, they prepared themselves to pick off their enemy one by one in this shipyard. By the time the Vice Chief reached the warehouse Gintoki was stationed at, he would face the mercy of the famed Shiroyasha’s sword alone. 

An explosion went off in the distance, screams slicing through the air. Gintoki went on high alert but his feet were nailed to the ground. He could not risk his mission. He had only one target tonight. The dim lighting put both sides at a disadvantage, but Gintoki and Takasugi’s henchmen had already scoped out the place, moving through the maze like blind mice. Takasugi’s plans were thought out right down to the swing of the sword, but it did not quell the nervous energy vibrating throughout Gintoki. He had wanted to be on the front lines at the center of the action, but Takasugi would not allow it. He had to focus all his energy to slaying this one man. 

By the time Gintoki heard movement in his area, the moon hid itself behind thick clouds, robbing the land of all natural light. 

“Oi, Takasugi! Come out here and fight me, you bastard!! Or are you going to keep hiding behind your pathetic henchmen who wouldn’t know a sword from a tree branch?!!” The deep voice sunk into Gintoki’s chest like an anchor, yet for the life of him he could not fathom why. 

But Gintoki refused to let something as shallow as emotions stop him from drawing his blade. Capitalizing on the element of surprise, he jumped from his position on the rooftop and swung downwards in a graceful arch. A lesser man would have been split in half, but even in the darkness, the Vice Chief managed to turn around and blocked the great Shiroyasha at the last second. 

Gintoki could tell that his unnamed target was smirking as he spat out, “you should do better to hide your killing intent. I could sense it from a mile away.”

The white-haired samurai refused to show that he had been riled up. He increased the pressure on his sword, forcing the other swordsman to bend under his weight. Gintoki was going to get this man on his knees by the end of the night. 

They fought in the shadows, using a sixth sense as sharp as their blades to guide them. His target put all of his strength in his right arm, tilting the sword and leading Gintoki’s own to slide down the metal edge, effectively breaking the stalemate. Gintoki toppled over to the left and his opponent did not hesitate to make a swing at the white-haired man’s chest, fully intending to cut him in half. But his sword sliced empty air as Gintoki jumped and swung his sword to parry the attack. 

The two men did not even stop to catch their breath as they fought, always trying to one up the other. Gintoki smirked. It had been awhile since a prey of his was putting up this much fight. It was pretty interesting. His sword style was refined yet still rough. There was one difference between them though. And Gintoki was sure his opponent could tell as well. Gintoki fought to die, but this man fought to live. 

In the short run, this always made Gintoki the best man on a job for a suicide mission. He fought like he had nothing to lose. But he could tell in the careful way this man swung his sword, he had something to fight hard enough for to make it out of the end of this battle. This piqued his interest. What did this man live for? What did he have that Gintoki didn’t?

Whatever the case, Gintoki decided to call it a night. He poured all of his strength into his swings, and launched a barrage of attacks in every which way, striking his enemy like lightning. He went on the offensive, not giving his target any time to fight back. This man was good, but Gintoki was better. One swing after another, he pushed him until the dark-haired man’s back hit the cold metal of the ship container. The White Demon knocked the Vice Chief’s last line of defense out of arm’s reach and both men came to a halt as the sound of the officer’s sword clanged against the ground. Gintoki pointed the sword at the man’s throat, the tip of his weapon kissing his Adam’s apple. 

As Gintoki held the man helpless at the tip of his sword, the clouds parted to allow the moon to enter the scene like the goddess it was. The moon’s light illuminated striking, blue eyes meeting Gintoki’s calculating gaze with no fear. What, was he not even going to beg for his life? Samurai stronger than him would have not hesitate to grovel at the White Demon’s feet, if not for the chance to gain the upper hand. But this man who had locked Gintoki’s blood-red eyes with his steel-blue gaze basically dared him to cut his throat. There was no fear, no hesitance. Only arrogance, as if he wanted for Gintoki to flick his wrist, to end it all and topple his head. 

Gintoki found it boring. He thought that this man would have give him a better fight since he obviously had something to protect—something to return to. 

Still, his eyes pulled Gintoki in like a tidepool, as if the silver samurai were the one drowning on dry land. The curve of this man’s jaw was sharper than any sword Gintoki had ever seen. 

“Hijikata-saaan,” an unknown voice called out and suddenly a sandy-blonde haired man standing on the shipping crate directly above the two men made his presence known. A heavy bazooka sat comfortably on his shoulder, his fingers on the trigger. 

Gintoki should have jumped out of the way the moment his face was met with the deep black abyss of the barrel, but his feet were fastened to the ground. 

‘Hijikata. Hijikata. Hijikata.’ The name tumbled through his mind on repeat. It couldn’t have been. But his wrist burned at the mere thought. The name that never saw the light of day was exactly what just fell out of that boy’s mouth. The arm that had the name “Hijikata” etched into his skin held a sword to the same man’s throat? Now that was what Gintoki called irony. 

Could this be Gintoki’s sworn enemy? Then logic dictated that he must kill him without a second thought. But why then were his hands completely still? Because even if this man were his enemy, he still had a part of Gintoki. And to find someone else in this  _ universe _ that had a piece of him was...breathtaking to say the least. 

But fate decided for him, changing the tides of this battle Gintoki so clearly thought belonged to him. The click of the trigger roared into his ears. The bullet from the bazooka almost hit him square in the chest, threatening to collapse his lungs if not for his sword acting as the last barrier. His body went flying across the shipyard, smacking into a shipping container hard enough to make a huge dent. 

Moments passed and enough pain wracked through him to remind him that he was still alive. A mangled groan left his body as the smell of explosives lodged in his nose. The tips of his hair were still sizzling as he attempted to stand up. But as he tried to push himself off the ground, two hands grabbed his own and wrapped his wrists in cuffs. The imprint of the officer’s fingers burned him more than a fire ever could. 

“The name is Hijikata Toushiro,” this man said as he held Gintoki’s own sword to his throat. The moon was directly behind him, basking him in its glorious light, making his tall, dark form illuminate like the finest obsidian. Gintoki could not help but redefine the word “beautiful” to include his visage into its meaning and the silver samurai was knocked breathless for the second time that night. “And you are under arrest.”


	2. A Shocking Development

Gintoki felt like his ass would eventually meld with the uncomfortable metal chair if he kept sitting like this. It had been almost three hours in the interrogation room, breathing in the same stale air while the officer drilled him with questions. There was no luck though. Hijikata Toshirou couldn't get anything out of Gintoki because he literally had nothing to give. 

Slamming the table in his frustration, Hijikata glared down at Gintoki as if he could glower the truth out of the man. “I don’t understand. How is it that you know next to  _ nothing _ about Takasugi Shinsuke’s entire operation?!”

“I told you. I barely have had contact with him for the past couple of years. He just told me to come to the docks for some fun.”

“Does  _ ‘fun’  _ mean aiding and abetting a known terrorist while attacking a police officer?”

“To some people, yes.”

It was the truth, just not the  _ whole _ truth. A couple of years ago, Gintoki felt that it would have been better for the two of them if he took a bit of a “break” and traveled through Japan. He had still met up with Takasugi every once in a while to “provide his services.” Whether that meant being a hitman or a lover, that was really only between them. 

The white-haired samurai watched Hijikata as he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a withering sigh. Gintoki was really wearing the officer down. Hijikata shifted through his papers once more, still finding next to nothing about Gintoki in his investigation. Letting out a huff of frustration, Hijikata undid his cravat in a graceful manner. It slid off his neck so smoothly that Gintoki was almost jealous of the inanimate object. He had already taken off his top jacket beforehand, because it didn’t do well within the heat building up in the room. He undid a few of his top buttons carelessly as a result. Gintoki briefly wondered if the officer was trying to seduce him into giving him the information. But he had a feeling that this officer was so by the book that such a thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind in a million years. 

Hijikata reached for his sleeves and Gintoki took a sharp inhale in anticipation. A curiosity gnawed at his insides, wondering which wrist Gintoki’s name was engraved on. Speaking of which, did the officer even know that Gintoki was his sworn enemy? If he did, this man was really good at acting oblivious because he hadn’t made any comment on it. To be fair, neither was the white-haired samurai.

Perhaps now would be the time for Gintoki to have the pleasure of watching the Vice Chief make the connection now as his hands moved to push up the white sleeves. Unfortunately, both wrists were completely covered—one with a tasteful silver wristwatch and the other in a jet black band. Gintoki watched the man raise his hand to rub the tension out of his neck. God decided to punish Gintoki for all of his sins as his eyes were captivated by a bead of sweat running down his neck, trailing Hijikata’s sharp Adam’s apple, and finally ending its journey by pooling at the dip in his collar bone. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It  _ was  _ getting hot in here. Gintoki would have had the audacity to drool if his mouth wasn’t so damn dry. 

A knock came at the door and in came a rather plain looking officer with a complicated looking machine. 

“Sir! I found the lie detector! It was stored underneath our badminton net so I had a hard time unraveling it,” the man explained happy-go-luckily, not cognizant of the scowl the Vice Chief was throwing his way. 

“Whatever, Yamazaki, set it up so that we can get this over with.” 

Yamazaki stuck several wires to Gintoki’s fingers, chest, and bicep. The wires all traveled back to a clunky machine with some kind of graph. Gintoki had seen this machine before. It had been used in the first Pedoro movie when the cop had been framed for a crime. The assumption was that if a person lied, their heart beat would pick up, and be scripted on the machine. But the best of liars knew that the most believable deceptions were built on a grain of truth. 

Yamazaki settled himself behind Gintoki with the machine. “You can start with a few simple questions so we can get a baseline.”

Hijikata spoke, “what is your name?”

“Sakata Gintoki.”

“How old are you?”

“I don’t know.” A tick mark appeared on Hijikata's brow. 

“Where were you born?”

“I don’t know.” Gintoki could practically see the frustration rolling off of the officer in waves. 

“Don’t mess with me!! Give me a straight answer!” Gintoki inwardly smirked. There was nothing straight about him.

Yamazaki nervously interjected. “Actually, Vice Chief, it appears he’s telling the truth.”

Hijikata gave Gintoki another once over and the white-haired samurai wondered what kind of assumptions were churning inside his head. Did Hijikata figure out that Gintoki was an orphan growing up during the ravages of war? Regardless of what Hijikata might have thought, he chose not to comment on it out of respect. Most kindred samurais knew not to. 

“What is your occupation?”

“I don’t really know how to put it…” Gintoki said truthfully, pondering at how to describe his job. “I basically traveled between villages, offering a hand for a place to stay and a hot meal. I’ve done a lot of odd jobs here and there.”

“What, like a traveling  _ Yorozuya _ ?”

Gintoki looked pensive, letting the name roll around in his mind. “Yea, I guess you could say that.  _ ‘Yorozuya,’ _ I like the name of that.”

Hijikata’s patience was running thin due to the lackadaisical way this man carried himself. There was absolutely nothing that this guy took seriously!

“Just cut the crap already!  _ What is your relationship with Takasugi?! _ ”

Gintoki plugged his ear with a pinky as the officer yelled; his eardrum was growing pretty sensitive with all his shouting. He haphazardly rolled his finger around a bit before bringing it in front of his mouth and blowing off the earwax. 

“We’re fuckbuddies.”

Hijikata’s brain short circuited at such a blunt and tactless answer. 

“Oh—um…” An awkward silence strangled the room.

“Vice Chief, he’s telling the truth,” Yamazaki added in a lame attempt to dispel the silence. 

Gintoki rolled his eyes. Why the fuck would he lie about that? Maybe it was a trick of the lighting but the white-haired samurai could have sworn that a light blush dusted the officer’s cheeks. 

Hijikata took a deep breath to gather his bearings. He pulled out his chair, the screeching of the chair against the floor irking both of their nerves. He sat facing Gintoki on equal grounds. 

“Look, even if you are,” Hijikata made a hand motion that insinuated that the word was too crass for him to say, “it doesn’t change the fact that Takasugi abandoned you. He immediately retreated once his men caught wind that you were captured. Fat lot of good your loyalty was to him in the heat of the moment.”

Gin tightened his jaw, growing agitated by the accusation that Takasugi left him as good as dead last night.

“We have you in here for attacking a Shinsengumi officer. That’ll get you ten years in prison, but I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, you’re propositioning me, officer? How forward,” Gintoki had the audacity to wink. 

Hijikata’s eye twitched. “ _ If _ you help with the investigation towards Takasugi, I could help you drop your time to only five years. There’s also a chance of getting you into the witness protection program.” He would love nothing more than to throw this tactless bum in jail, but Gin was the closest lead he had to Takasugi he’d gotten in years.

There was finally true silence in the room, save for the ticking of the polygraph machine. Gintoki’s mouth opened, preparing to launch into an entire spiel about how “bitches get stitches,” but an old memory bubbled onto the surface, stopping him in his tracks.

_ Takasugi sat at the window sill, smoking away the stress of the day. Out of nowhere, he said before his next puft of smoke, “if you’re ever caught by the enemy, fall to their side until I give you the order to come back to mine.” _

_ Gintoki scoffed, as if the great Shiroyasha would ever fall into anyone’s grasp.  _

_ “What makes you think I would come back to your side?” _

_ “As if you had any other choice. Every part of you belongs to me.” _

Gintoki looked at the man whose existence proved Takasugi’s theory wrong. Here was a man who contained a piece of Gintoki. The white-haired samurai wondered what else Takasugi could have been wrong about. 

He offered his hand out to Hijikata, the one with his wrist carefully wrapped in a bandage. Hijikata looked down at this hand awkwardly, not expecting the gesture. 

Hijikata’s hand clasped around Gintoki’s, and a current of electricity ran between the two men. 

The lie detector did not make a single beep. 

————

“Oi, what kind of weird kink play is this?” Gintoki asked seriously as he pulled at the collar around his neck. He wasn’t really imagining things would move so quickly with the Vice Commander. 

_ “Ugh, _ don’t say something so disgusting. Sougo’s the one who came up with the idea. We need a guarantee that you won’t run away while you help us with our investigation.” 

“Can’t you just take my word for it?” 

“Oh,  _ ha ha _ ,” Hijikata fumbled with the device in his hand, looking like a senior citizen with their newly discovered smartphone. “Oi, Sougo, how does this work again?”

That sandy-haired kid who shot a bazooka point blank at Gintoki last night entered the scene. He popped a bubble in his lackadaisical way and pressed a big red button on the controller. Gintoki went down like a tree struck by lightning. An electric current rippled through his body, sending him to his knees as even the tips of his hair were fried. “Oops,” said Sougo, not sounding remorseful in the slightest, “had the intensity set into MAX.”

Gintoki struggled to get up as he put his shaking hand on the electric collar, tugging at it. "Could you have not thought of something a bit more....subtle?" Gintoki asked. 

"Well, the only other option was..." that damned black-haired cop looked about a few feet south of Gintoki's neck, “but I couldn’t find a size that small last minute.” Gintoki was angry at the jab of his manhood, but he couldn’t help but cover his groin out of fear. 

That brat, whose name was Souchiro or something with an S as it obviously stood for sadist, turned to his superior officer. "Hope you train your new pet well, Hijikata-san." Gintoki tried his best not to scoff. As if Hijikata could dominate him in a thousand years.

Sougo carried himself so nonchalantly walking alongside, chewing gum and listening to music. How was this kid one of the higher-ranking officers? Gintoki still couldn't believe this brat was the one who pulled a fast one on him last night at the dock. The Shinsengumi must have been running some kind of daycare if they let this kid in. They should rather invest in anger management courses for one Vice Commander, so he didn’t blow a gasket too soon. 

"Alright," Hijikata said. "If you even think of leaving my side, you'll get a good shock to remind you of why you shouldn't, so don't you dare think about double-crossing me."

Gintoki smirked. "Awww, Oogushi-kun, you should have just said that you wanted me to be close by your side." Even with the threat of electrocution, Gintoki somehow found it within himself to flirt and piss off the Vice Chief even more. Hijikata’s face lit up like fireworks in the night sky and pressed the button on instinct. 

Gintoki’s limbs were still spazzing out of control when he regained consciousness. The punishment had backfired on Hijikata as now he was the one who had to lug the paralyzed Gintoki to the car while Sougo did nothing to help as always. 

Hijikata shoved him into a police car with no remorse and they began driving through the streets of Edo. "Sooooo... am I like a police dog or something? You're just bringing me along for the ride?"

"Can you shut your trap for one second?" Hijikata said, already regretting his decision to take this white-haired bum under his jurisdiction. 

Gintoki picked his nose, not really caring about how this would turn out. 

“So where are we headed to first?” Gintoki asked. 

“I have to go get a new sword because  _ someone _ ,” he eyed disapprovingly at Gintoki’s reflection in the car mirror, “broke mine.” Hijikata’s sword had broken into two this morning, not being able to last after the brunt of the white demon’s blows. Gintoki just shrugged. He wanted to shoot back something about blaming the wielder and not the weapon, but he knew he did not want to bear the brunt of another electrocution. 

After riding down the busy roads of Edo and watching the citizens live their busy lives, Hijikata pulled up to a rather beaten shop. The wood was splintering across the panels and the door didn’t even look like it could close right. 

Hijikata and Sougo walked in, followed by Gintoki in tow. “Oi,  _ Tenchou _ —“ 

Gin looked, perplexed, as Sougo immediately plugged his ears with his fingers. 

“WELCOME HIJIKATA-SAN.” A thunderous voice came past the threshold, making Gintoki throw his hands over his ears, wishing he’d invested in some earplugs. “WHAT MAKES YOU A GUEST AT OUR HUMBLE SHOP?”

Wasn’t a shop owner supposed to be a bit quieter than this? The walls were shaking and if that man screamed any louder, Gintoki was afraid the beams supporting the shop would collapse. 

“I’m looking for one of your best swords. My last one was broken by this idiot over here,” Hijijata threw a thumb backwards to Gintoki. If Gintoki were any closer, he would have bitten it off. How would the smug bastard press the shock button then.

“WELL, HAVE A LOOK AROUND.”

Hijikata walked around the store, perusing the multitudes of fine blades. He preferred having a heavier blade to ground him as he fell his enemies. He couldn’t afford to hesitate as he did last night with Gintoki. He balled up his fist in frustration. How the hell did this shitty-perm, nose-picking, dead-fish eyed bastard of a samurai manage to defeat him?! He would have much rather lost his life than his dignity. And yet it was this homeless swordsman who handed Hijikata’s ass to him and they regrettably both lived to tell the tale. Suddenly, a rather extraordinary sheen of a sword drew him out of his thoughts. 

This sword had a particular aura that inexplicably drew Hijijata to it like a moth to a flame. “Oi,  _ tenchou _ , how much is this one?” 

“O-OH, THAT ONE?” For some reason the blacksmith seemed almost hesitant about this particular blade. 

“May I try it out?” The sword maker gave a single nod. Hijikata almost felt like the sword was the one to reach out and grab him as his hand wrapped around the handle. The sword was a comforting, heavy weight in his hand, offering stability like an anchor in torrential waters. 

Hijikata swung the sword in the shop, careful to not put too much energy into it, lest he really bring the whole place down. The graceful arch of the swinging sword would have made a rainbow jealous. 

“How much will you take for it?” Hijikata asked without a moment’s hesitation. This was undoubtedly the one. 

The officer was too busy marveling at the fine workmanship of the blade to notice the hesitance flashing across the sword maker’s face, but Gintoki caught it. 

“For you, Hijikata-dono, the sword is all yours without a single yen,” the shop owner said at a suspiciously normal volume, which was quiet by his standards. “Consider it a gift for all the business you and the Shinsengumi has given me over the years.” Gintoki looked at him, suspicious at his generosity. 

Hijikata still insisted on paying him something to show his gratitude for this remarkable weapon he had bestowed upon him. The sword maker continued refusing any offers of money until Hijikata finally left him with one voucher for a ‘Hijikata Special.’ 

Gintoki barely stopped himself from gagging when he learned that it was just a bowl topped with mayonnaise. He knew that the voucher would be left unused.

Remembering that the empty feeling in his own hand as his sword had been confiscated, he asked, “hey, aren’t you going to give me anything to defend myself with?”

Hijikata scanned the room lazily, obviously not putting much thought or effort into the endeavor and picked up a wooden sword leaning forgotten on the wall. He blew the dust off of the “Lake Touya” inscription on the handle and threw the bokken at Gintoki haphazardly. 

“You’re gonna give me a  _ toothpick _ to defend myself with?!”

“True samurai would be able to split a boulder with a mere branch if they tried hard enough.”

“BULLSHIT!” Gintoki yelled back. Hijikata pressed the button, wirelessly sending a “mild” shock down his spine. 

—

The trio meandered back onto the streets of Kabukicho, silent as the dead in the police car. The men weren’t the talkative type. Hijikata pulled to a quiet stop, looking intently at a worn down dojo across the street. Was it Gintoki or did Kabukicho need a major upgrade. 

The black-haired officer did not look suspicious in the  _ slightest _ as he whisked out a pair of binoculars in broad daylight. Gintoki yawned, wondering if the citizens knew that their taxes were being wasted away like this. “Hey, do you have some Shonen Jump?” He might as well entertain himself if he was going to be stuck in a barely air-conditioned car with two stone-faced men. 

Hijikata took a deep breath, preparing to give this criminal the lecturing of a life-time but stopped when an unassuming glasses-wearing kid walked through the gates. 

“Oi, I doubt some teenager is capable of being the nation’s top wanted terrorist.”

Hijikata scoffed. “Of course not. What do you think I am, an idiot?”

Gintoki bit back the answer to that question. He wasn’t keen on being shocked again. 

The black-haired man continued when a couple of skeevy-looking men shuffled to the front of the dojo, looking like they had a bone to pick with everyone who wasn’t sporting a faded color suit and a scruff beard. 

  
“ _ That’s  _ who I’m after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to bite the bullet and just post this chapter. I've been just driving myself in circles, nitpicking all the plotpoints, but I finally had the courage to just push forward and see where it takes me. 
> 
> This fic might go on temporary hiatus as I work on my piece for Gintoki's Birthday Bash 2020! It'll be another long smut/fluff oneshot much like my quarantine fic, so you guys better be prepared! We have a lot of great fics/art planned for you all and it'll be the GinHiji event of the season ;) 
> 
> Whether you wish to create or consume more GinHijiGin content, check us out on [Tumblr](https://gintokibirthdaybash.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/GintokiBdayBash) for more info!
> 
> Hope you all are doing well! I love you all <3333 Thanks for reading!


	3. Silver Shining

“Wow, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say they were yakuza,” Gintoki commented. 

“Of course they are. Don’t you recognize them? They’re Takasugi’s lackeys.”

‘Who uses lackeys anymore?’ Gintoki rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like they were in some 1950’s gangster film. The white-haired samurai squinted his eyes and distinguished some tacky golden butterflies sewn into the dark tracksuits. He surmised that they must have been with Takasugi, but the butterfly branded tracksuit was a bit much even for him. Gintoki could not confirm as he did not know the majority of Takasugi's henchmen. He was on the road too much and it seemed that they were always changing in and out. Takasugi considered his henchmen more like cannon fodder than actual subordinates. 

The car was too far away from the scene to hear what the men were saying to the kid, but Gintoki didn’t need to know how to lip read to to tell that coercion was the main form of communication. The two towered over the kid, using their size to intimidate him. 

Gintoki stepped out of the car without another word. There was something about the way that kid looked so helpless that called out to a part of him that he had thought he’d thrown away. For some unfathomable reason, the silver samurai wanted to protect this young man so steadfastly standing in front of his dojo. 

“What is that idiot doing?!” Hijikata seethed under his breath. His hand reached out to the shocker, but the white-haired man moved too fast, already out of range. If the officer got out to follow them, he would scare off Takasugi’s henchmen, which was one of the few viable clue to his target since the white-haired numbskull turned out to be so utterly useless. 

Gintoki didn’t really have a plan. His legs carried him onto the scene, and at the last moment, he barreled into the two men, knocking them onto their asses. 

“Excuseeeee meeeeee. Sakata Gintoki here. I would like to join your dojo,” he announced, feigning a Naruto-like enthusiasm to become the next hokage. The impression fell flat as they all looked at him like he had other places to be.

The two men scrambled off the floor, spitting out curses at Gintoki. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you white-haired bastard?!”

“Oops, I didn’t see you there. Are you planning to join this dojo and learn its secret techniques of the reverse blade sword as well?”

The track suit duo had no idea how to respond to this random weirdo who had come out of nowhere. Before they could get another word out, a brunette entered the scene. A soft, peach colored yukata adorned her figure with flowers blossoming across the side. Her feminine beauty did nothing to tame the dangerous aura leaking out of her. 

One of the men stepped closer, determined not to lose in this battle of intimidation. His foot landed on the welcome mat placed in front of the dojo and the lady zeroed her eyes in on his misstep. She shot out her arm and reached for the man’s wrist, throwing him off balance. Shifting her feet, she twisted her body to have her back to his front. She bent over quickly to gain the momentum to throw him over her shoulder. Her victim landed on the pavement with a sickening thud. 

“Oh, dear. You stepped onto my welcome mat and therefore have trespassed onto my property. I was just so scared, I acted in self-defense.” She had the audacity to push fake tears out of her eyes, pretending to be a meek, powerless woman. 

The one left standing went to scoop up his partner, staring daggers at the woman, but knowing he couldn’t do much more. They would be back soon enough. They would stop at nothing to get this dojo for their leader. 

Gintoki, the woman, and the boy watched the men leave in silence. When the figures turned a corner, the brunette turned to Gintoki with a disdainful look. “Did you need a free demonstration of judo as well?”

“Aneue, wait! This man tried to help me!” The bespectacled boy stood in between Gintoki and his sister to impede her wrath. 

“Don’t be so keen on trusting anyone you meet, especially those with perms.” 

Gintoki furrowed his eyebrows, confused and a bit defensive. ‘What was wrong with perms?’

“Men like him have been circling like vultures around our dojo for months and I’ve had enough of it.” She pushed past Gintoki roughly. “Thank you, but we don’t need your help.” She turned around, gesturing for her younger brother to follow her like a lost puppy. 

“Let’s go, Shinpachi.” The boy gave one last look at Gintoki, looking like he had wanted to say something, but he lost the courage and shut the door. 

This was the first time Gintoki had ever tried to act in complete selflessness and he was met with a door slammed in his face. 

A shock jolted through his body and when he opened his eyes again, the scowling face of the Vice Commander greeted him. 

Being a good guy was the worst. 

———

Gintoki laid strewn out across the tatami mats of the Shinsengumi barracks. Since he was now an informant for the police, he was upgraded from his little jail cell. That Yamazaki guy stood outside his door, keeping watch. After the stunt he pulled, Hijikata had given him an earful and threatened to throw him back into his cell if he disobeyed him again. 

The silver-haired rolled over on his side, pillowing his head on his arm and looking at nothing in particular. His mind went back to that glasses wearing kid. Why did he go and try to help him?

If he were being truthful with himself, the look of helplessness that crossed the boy’s face reminded Gintoki of himself from long ago. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a longing desire to be bigger than his own limits. He remembered wishing to grow large enough to encompass an entire battlefield, wreaking havoc amongst the soldiers. But now he realized that his younger self never really wanted chaos. He wanted strength. He wanted the power to protect those around him. That was why he tried so hard to get stronger. 

And tonight, despite all of his logic saying no, he was going to go lend that kid his strength. 

—————

Shinpachi walked along the empty doors of his family home, making sure nothing was misplaced before he turned in for the night. He should have been thinking about what jobs he should apply for tomorrow to raise money for the dojo, but his mind was elsewhere tonight. Why did that silver-haired man try to help them? He couldn’t remember the last time a stranger lent his hand to the young boy. His past years have been filled with men terrorizing his sister and him to give up their only home and bosses who couldn't care less if a customer spit on him. The white-haired stranger reminded him that there was still good in the world. 

There was something in the way he carried himself that reminded him of the stories his father used to tell him about the samurai. They were the bravest warriors and any one would be lucky to carry samurai blood in his veins. 

Even though this Gintoki did not even swing his sword, Shinpachi couldn't hell but admire the strength just thrumming beneath the surface. Was this man one of the last few true samurai? The young boy wished so desperately that he had more strength. He wanted to protect his sister and stand up for himself. But more often than not, he found himself biting back words to keep the peace. He couldn’t stand up to his belligerent manager who took out every chance to berate him. He couldn’t stand up to these yakuza who had been hounding his dojo for months. His frustration with himself burned like a coal in his stomach and he curled his fist. He wished to lash out and punch a wall to let out his frustration, but he wouldn’t even let himself do that.

A noise came from the dojo. That was weird. He thought he’d already checked it. Was his sister doing one of her late night training sessions? He slid the shoji doors and was greeted with the sight of his sister with a cloth wrapped around her mouth as two men forced her onto her knees. Her hands were tied back. She struggled, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears as they fell upon Shinpachi. 

“Aneue!!” Shinpachi tried to run but he’d been so distracted by the sight of his sister all tied up that he didn’t notice the shadow hiding by the door. A large hand grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully behind his back. He fell onto his knees in shock and stilled, feeling the touch of cold metal kiss his throat. 

“Be careful. One move and your head will come clean off.” 

Shinpachi felt absolutely helpless as he stared at his captive sister from across the rooms. The tears she had been trying so hard to hold back pushed forth, rolling down her cheeks and staining a piece of paper below. It didn’t take much to figure out what it was. They had been shoving that paper in their faces for the past few years. It was the deed to transfer the title of the dojo over to the yakuza. All they needed was a thumb print smeared with a prick of her blood. 

His sister was strong but even she couldn’t take out ten men empty-handed. Especially now that they held Shinpachi hostage. The boy’s fingers dug so hard into his palms that he drew blood. Here he was again—useless. 

The shoji doors were cracked open to let a sliver of moonlight through. In the dimness, he saw his sister prick her thumb on the tip of the yakuza’s sword—much like a morose Sleeping Beauty—and resigned to press it against the deed. But before her finger pressed into the paper, the door slid open and a white-haired man strode into the scene. The moonlight shone upon him, making him luminescent. 

Sakata Gintoki walked into a den of tigers with nothing more than a wooden bokken by his side. “Yo,” he casually greeted, like he had entered a bar and not a room full of blood-thirsty gangsters, “is this a special late-night training session?” 

Not the kind for exchanging civilities, four men lunged at him simultaneously, letting their cries ring through the night. His face remained chillingly neutral as he swiped his wooden sword into their cores, swinging so fast he incapacitated all of them at once. 

The one man holding Shinpachi hostage should have killed him immediately, but his moment of hesitance gave Gintoki enough time to grab a kendo sword that had been laying by the door and throw it at his face. The butt of the weapon hit the man squarely in the face and knocked him out. The glance Gintoki shot at Shinpachi was simple. ‘Get out of here or fight.’ 

Shinpachi reached for the kendo sword. His grip tightened on it as he looked at his sister, still trapped. It was now or never. He would stop blaming others for his weakness. Who cared about the loan sharks that never allowed him to breathe without constantly badgering his family about his late father’s debt? Who cared about these menial jobs barely paying him a living wage and treating him like shit day in and day out? 

If he wasn’t a man yet in everyone’s eyes, then he will undeniably prove to them that he was indeed a samurai. Shinpachi moved in the shadows, not allowing the moonlight to give away his position. It was through sheer willpower alone that he did not slip in his socks, but the cloth softened his footfalls. The yakuza members holding his sister hostage were too distracted by Gintoki to notice the young boy closing in from the side. Shinpachi swung from the left, putting all his strength into it and praying it would be enough. The force caused one man to fly into the other, knocking them both of their feet. It was a good thing that Otae had cat-like reflexes. She ducked her head and rolled away in the nick of time. Shinpachi pulled a wooden naginata tucked away in the shadows and tossed it at his sister. With weapons in both of their hands, the siblings would prove once in for all how terrible it would be to have crossed the Shimura household. 

———-

Gintoki inwardly cursed. He was able to knock these men down but more of them just kept coming. There must have been more than two dozen of them crowding in the small space of the dojo. These assholes were like fireants, swarming the three of them until they suffocated. They all surrounded Gintoki, Shinpachi, Otae, forcing them against the wall. Even on a bad day, Gintoki could have taken all these men without breaking a sweat, but he was at a disadvantage right now. The small space of the dojo made it difficult for his sword to gain full momentum and send these guys through the roof. He had the option of entering his true Shiroyasha mode right now, he couldn’t guarantee that the siblings next to him would come out unscathed. 

The silver-haired samurai strained his mind to think. They wanted the woman to sign the dojo away, right? If he could create an opening for her to get outside, then he could draw them out and thin the herd.

Suddenly, a yelp could be heard from the edge of the crowd, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the floor. Gintoki quirked his eyebrow, did someone just defect? Before he realized what was happening, Hijikata Toushiro was cutting his way across the room. The yakuza members' eyes widened in terror as they recognized the Demon Vice Chief of the Shinsengumi.

_“Yo-ro-zu-ya,”_ Hijikata enunciated each syllable like it was a curse and the glare he shot Gintoki when they finally saw each other through the swarm of yakuza was downright deadly. Despite this, Gintoki couldn’t help but liken Hijikata’s behavior to a pissed off housewife coming to the bar to drag her wayward husband home. 

“Oi, there’s an opening. Head outside,” he gestured at the path that Hijikata had just created. “I’ll take out the ones on your tail.” Otae nodded and went into a sprint towards the path. Shinpachi flanked her side and blocked any one trying to stop her. 

When Hijikata finally came within arms reach, Gintoki had to remind himself that he was in the middle of a battlefield. It was not the best time to ogle the police officer, no matter how many times his eyes unconsciously came back to rest upon his form. Hijikata was still in his work uniform, but he was holding a kendo sword instead of his usual one. 

“Were you so desperate to find me that you forgot to bring your sword?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

Hijikata bristled with a mixture of embarrassment and rage, but he refused to allow Gintoki to believe he had the upper hand. Instead of struggling to one-up this impossible man, he channeled his anger into the swing of sword, hitting his opponent squarely in the chest. The man flew backwards and knocked into two other members and toppled like dominoes. 

Hijikata had been so distracted unleashing his demonic rage upon all that stood in his path that he didn’t see someone quickly approaching from his blind spot. Gintoki’s body acted on instinct, lunging forward and knocking Hijikata onto the floor. The enemy’s sword swiped nothing but air. 

Gintoki raised himself onto his hands and despite the utter chaos whirling around them, he took this opportunity to gaze down at Hijikata. The black-haired officer looked up at him with his signature pissed off look. There was no trace of gratitude for the man who just saved his life. Still, Gintoki couldn’t help but think he was beautiful with his fiery glare. 

Hijikata suddenly reached a hand to wrap around the base of Gintoki’s skull and for a moment, the man thought that the officer was going to give him a headbutt in retribution. Instead, Hijikata kicked off the ground, allowing the momentum cause their bodies to roll over. Now Hijikata was the one atop the sugar addict. The space that they once laid seconds ago now had a sword impaling the floor. Hijikata’s hand was still dug into the soft locks of the silver perm head. ‘So, he did that to protect my head…’ Hijikata cared a little more about Gintoki than he let on. 

Despite their near death experience, all Gintoki could focus on right now was the press of Hijikata’s hips against his. Unconsciously, he squeezed his thighs together to feel the lithe body in between. The expression on Hijikata was unreadable. He only shot up and hit another poor bastard that got in his way. 

Gintoki quickly joined him, covering his back. Fighting against Hijikata that moonlit night had been fun. But fighting alongside Hijikata was absolutely exhilarating. Their bodies synced to the rhythm of their timed attacks. When Gintoki was left wide open after a swing, Hijikata was already blocking the strike coming at his side. It was like a dance that only they knew the footwork to. 

All their enemies fell one by one at their feet. When they realized they all stood victorious, the four of them took in large gasps of air, their lungs afire. When Hijikata finally got his breath back, he pulled out a phone and pressed the speed dial button. “Sougo, send several units to the Shimura residence. We’re pulling another all-nighter tonight.” He sounded tired. The adrenaline from the battle had probably worn off. 

Gintoki gave the officer a slap on his back. And maybe, just maybe a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The fight had ended, and they won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Honestly, writing a multi-chapter fic is much harder than I ever imagined, but all of your support is giving me strength :D
> 
> I remember starting this fic to be a smut filled fic for GinHiji as my works are usually, but it slowly became more about Gintoki learning the different kinds of bountiful love. Now this story might lean more towards how Gin heals (sprinkled with lots of sexy times between the two). Y’all will just have to wait a little longer before the smut enters 
> 
> Hope your days are filled with lots of joy <3

**Author's Note:**

> ☆〜（ゝ。∂）
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @luckystars1015 for fic updates :3c


End file.
